It’s only a mole hill

by illimitableoceanofinexplicability

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That is what I’d tell myself

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mole

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And, I was right, that is all it was, a mole hill. However, on occasion, while strolling the park like setting of my beloved Institute, the sounds of a magnificent orchestra playing in the ears of our dear Lord as he watched my every move, my usual devil may care attitude about these subterranean vandals would quickly develop into a seething murderous rage. Why one day I’d declare, “Live and let live”, and then the next call for the complete eradication of every last one of these detestable monsters forever burrowing beneath my feet I cannot say, but, call I did, through clenched teeth I growled “You are going to fucking die”!

Then, as if no longer myself (a kind and caring gentleman) I would retrieve a sharpened trowel and with it dig away until exposing the creature’s hole. With that accomplished I would then carefully insert into the hole a contraption of a most devilish design. This contraption, when eventually triggered by the half blind beast, would almost instantaneously snap shut upon its neck dispatching the poor animal immediately up to join our dear Lord in looking down upon me celebrating its demise to the sounds of a most stirring symphonic arrangement.

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